The Vacuum of Time
by OneDayI'llFigureItOut
Summary: One hundred years is a long time. Enough time that the people one's supposed to love seem so different, so alien, that one can't help but feel alone.


This is the second prompt in a series of prompts I'm writing. The title of each is the prompt. Hope you like it!

* * *

><p>The gentle rise and fall of Appa's great chest usually did wonders for soothing the young airbender into a tranquil slumber. Each inhale pushed him closer to the sky and every groaning exhale brought on dreams of flight (his very favorite). Tonight, however, Aang seemed unable to quiet his whirlwind of thoughts. There weren't a great multitude; in fact, there were only a few, but these few robbed the child-Avatar of his much needed sleep.<p>

Glancing over Appa's fuzzy side, Aang's gaze fell upon the sleeping Water Tribe siblings, though his thoughts wandered far beyond their camp. Their recent encounter with Jeong Jeong the Deserter shook Aang to his core, making him question his abilities, his destiny, and his values. Waterbending was as different from firebending as their patron spirits, the sun and moon, were to each other. Waterbending refreshed his spirit while firebending set his very blood ablaze. Each waterbending technique calmed his mind, much like his meditations, while firebending pushed him to fight, wanting him to let loose, to use his fear and anger to _devastate_ his enemies_. _He'd only successfully manipulated the flames for a moment; but in those few seconds, he saw himself standing before the Fire Lord, wielding the very flames that monster held so dearly. He watched himself _crush _the ruler, sending him to his knees before the fully recognized Avatar. He saw victory so clearly he could smell the smoke hanging thickly in the air and taste the acrid flavor of the Fire Lord's fear.

But then Katara had screamed and tore a jagged wound in his spirit.

Tears pricked the gentle twelve-year-old's eyes and he quickly rolled to his back, pressing the heels of his hands to halt their flow. He didn't want to do this. He had never wanted to be the Avatar. He missed carefree air-games with his friends. He longed for Pai Sho with Monk Gyatso. He wanted to build elaborate snow sculptures with Siku, his companion in the Southern Water Tribe. He missed riding the delivery system with his friend Bumi in Omashu, and dancing the night away with Kuzon at the famous Fire Nation festivals. His heart ached as he thought about his friends and mentors, knowing they'd long since joined the Spirit World. What had only felt like a few moments in the ice had swiftly turned into decades and now nothing was the same.

Aang hiccupped as tears escaped and rolled across his temples. It was too overwhelming.

_We cannot concern ourselves on what was. We must act on what is_, Monk Gyatso's breezy voice whispered.

But he didn't even know what once was! Nothing was familiar! The nations weren't the same as they were one-hundred years ago; the people were vastly different. How could he reconcile his two worlds when they were separated by a full century of war and hate?

_Calm your mind, young monk. Be at peace. _

Aang inhaled shakily and struggled to quiet his emotions like the monks taught him. As he brought each wild feeling and turbulent thought back under his control, Aang opened his eyes to stare into the night sky. His emotions no longer controlled him, but the peace he strove for couldn't be found. A lone and final tear broke free from his lashes and fell without obstruction. The airbender may be under control, but his sadness was no less deep. He would allow himself that last drop of sorrow.

Staring into the sky, Aang's spirit fell silent. With such a large blanket of darkness covering the heavens, Aang couldn't help but feel swallowed by its depths, though he welcomed the coming numbness such a sensation brought. Not even the playful breeze could draw Aang out of his spirit-deep weariness.

_Count the stars, child_.

Aang sighed, but obeyed. He counted absently and had reached several hundred before he began to recognize constellations. The Eastern Sky Bison flew next to the Wanderer who had his back turned to Avatar Yangchen. The Dancing Triplets twirled their way through the sky, all while being eyed by the crouching Fox Puma. Dozens of others shone brightly, striving to get his attention, and the corners of Aang's mouth twitched. Those pictures in the night were taught to him a hundred years ago on the back of a Sky bison, hundreds of feet off the ground.

_Not everything has changed, young Avatar._


End file.
